


Family

by Hjmugillecuty



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e21 18th and Potomac, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-10
Updated: 2002-08-10
Packaged: 2019-05-15 20:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14797469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hjmugillecuty/pseuds/Hjmugillecuty
Summary: Josh sits and thinks after18thandPotomac.





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  


**Family**

**by:** Hjmugillecuty

**Category:** Post Episode, Josh/Donna

**Rating:** CHILD

**Summary:** Josh sits and thinks after “18 th and Potomac”. Spoilers through end of Season 2.

**Disclaimer:** Characters do not belong to me and I am making no money from this fic. All rights belong to the original creators.

**Author’s notes:** This is not my first piece of fan fiction but it is the first anyone else has ever read. Feedback is appreciated but please be kind. Thank you. There is a reference to an episode of M*A*S*H so congratulations if you find it!

It is amazing how people can become your family. Especially when you don’t have much family to begin with. Most of mine died before I was born. We lost my sister, Joanie, when I was just a kid and my dad on the night of the Illinois primary three years ago. It is just my mom and I now and I don’t get to see her nearly enough.

But, my other family, my coworkers at the White House almost make up for it. I’m sure they don’t know it, but they are now my brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, and cousins.

Why am I thinking about this right now? Because for the first time in days I’m not worrying about tobacco, the President’s MS, reelection, polling, or when and how to tell Donna that the sky really is falling. Instead, I’m thinking about Delores Landingham and this family.

I had been about to grab Donna and go for Chinese when Charlie passed my door. Donna stopped him and began talking to him rather urgently, then a look of shock appeared on her face and she seemed to be holding back tears. She hugged Charlie and he left. Then Donna came to my door.

“Donna, what’s wrong? Is it Charlie? Is he okay?”

“Josh, it’s…its Mrs. Landingham. There was a car accident. She was hit.”

“Is she okay?”

“No Josh, she…she’s not okay.”

“Is she at the hospital?”

“She died Josh. Mrs. Landingham died.”

At that instant the burst of tears came. But not just Donna’s, mine too. Suffice it to say, we didn’t go for Chinese. Instead we just held each other and cried until it was nine o’clock and time for the reelection meeting in the residence.

Donna came with me, I figured we needed someone who knew to take notes or collect research or other ‘assistant’ things. Plus, I wanted her with me. Sam, C.J., Toby and Charlie were waiting. I could tell all of them had heard the news. Leo showed up a couple of minutes later. He said the President would be along in a few minutes. That was half an hour ago.

So, I’m looking around at my family and trying to classify each of them into standard roles. We’re in one of the sitting rooms. Leo and Toby are in the two armchairs; Toby is about to fall asleep, which might be good because he hasn’t gotten much sleep lately. C.J. and Sam are on the couch, at opposite ends, quietly arguing the virtues of a Wednesday announcement versus a Thursday one. Charlie is standing by the door, his back straight against the wall, no longer crying but the tearstains show on his cheeks. I am sitting in one corner of the loveseat with Donna’s head in my lap. She is stretched out, asleep. I think today was emotionally exhausting for her.

I think I have them all figured out now. Tell me what you think:

Mrs. Landingham (bet you thought I’d start with the President! Nope.) was like my grandmother. She was a wonderful woman. She was raised during the Depression and it showed in how thrifty she would be. I suspect this was going to be her first new car ever. When she could tell we were depressed, she would share her cookies. She gave them as rewards also. The cookies were not an entitlement they were a gift. She’d probably be offering us some now if she could. Mrs. Landingham also tried to get the President to eat healthy. It didn’t work, but she tried. She was almost like a mother to him. She’d known him since he was about fifteen and he was near the same age as her own sons would have been.

Leo has been like a father to me the past few years, but even before that he was a part of my family, sort of like an uncle. He had known my dad since college, when they were thrown together on a debate team as partners. Leo once told me that they became best friends arguing the merits of the Lend-Lease Act over beers. However they met, Leo has always been around. He was the best man at my parents’ wedding. Our families used to vacation together in Ocean City, Maryland when I was a kid. We’d drive out to Chincoteague Island to see the wild ponies and I’d always figure out a way to ride in the McGarry’s car. Leo would drive and tell me about politics and life in D.C., it sounded like the most exciting job in the world.

Those trips stopped the summer I was twelve. I didn’t realize it then, but I think my father had figured out just how bad Leo’s drinking problem had gotten and didn’t want to take any risks. Leo would still call and they were still friends but there were no more vacations. Dad was so happy when Leo told him he was going into rehab.

I know that when I came to Washington it was because of Leo and his stories. My parents called him and asked him to keep an eye on me. Deep down, I know that’s why he came to get me to join Bartlet’s campaign. Leo knew I was drowning with Hoynes, he knew I was looking for the real thing, because he had taught me to look for it. In the past three years, Leo and I have grown even closer, especially after last May. He keeps an eye on me, like a father would, and he’s gotten me out of the hole I was in at Christmas. And, thanks to him, I have the rest of my family.

I can’t think of Leo without Mallory’s name popping into my head. She’s like a cousin to me. I can tease her about Sam and she’ll still be my friend. I was two when she was born but she’s never seemed younger than me. On those trips to Chincoteague, Leo bought us ‘Misty of Chincoteague’ and ‘Stormy, Misty’s foal’ and we would each keep one and trade the next summer. When the trips ended Mallory came and stayed with us a few times, when things were bad at home, and we’d trade books then. I ended up with ‘Stormy.’ It’s on one of the shelves in my office now, just in case I get the chance to trade again.

Now that I think about it, didn’t I ever tell Sam I knew Mallory? Maybe if I had, he wouldn’t have thought she was an elementary schooler.

Next, the President. President Bartlet is kind of like a favorite uncle. Everyone knows what I mean, right? Everyone has a favorite uncle; he’s the one that makes you laugh and think. The one who would walk into fire for you and you would do the same for him. There have been times when the President has given me second, third, or fourth chances that I know no one else would have provided me. The whole “God indicted for tax fraud” thing, or my “secret plan to fight inflation”, or even yelling at him in the Oval Office last Christmas, I expected to be fired for each of those gaffes. But I never was. That’s part of why this MS thing hurts so much. He is in pain, he is worried, and now he has lost Mrs. Landingham, and I can’t do anything to make it better. I can only repay him for all those chances by sitting here and hoping I get the opportunity to get him reelected.

My father knew President Bartlet a little, because of Leo. They were both at Leo’s wedding and while Leo was dealing with his alcoholism and drug addiction, my dad and the President would call each other. Trying to figure out how best to help Leo. I had never met him though, until that evening in New Hampshire when I knew I had to join that campaign.

My thoughts drift to Zoey. Like Mallory, she is like a cousin, but almost a sister. She used to hang around the campaign office and talk to Donna, so I got to know her pretty well. Sometimes I’m torn between wanting to protect Zoey and wanting to let her live her own life. At that bar in Georgetown, almost two years ago, I wanted to let her have fun and relax, like Charlie and be a regular kid, so I held her panic button. I was glad when she started dating Charlie; I think they are good together. She relaxes him and he protects her. I know she thinks of me as a brother, she said so at the hospital last year. She and Charlie were scared to come visit me at first, according to Donna. They thought I would blame them for what happened. When they did come, I tried to reassure them that it was no one’s fault; I don’t think Charlie believed me. Zoey was crying and gave me a hug, whispering that she was glad she hadn’t lost her big brother. I wonder…

“Did anyone call Zoey?” I ask out loud. Everyone turns to Charlie with the question in his or her own eyes.

“Yeah” He replies, “I called her right after I told Leo. She said she’d be over in a little while.”

“Okay.” I look around and notice that people have shifted. Charlie is still by the door, but is now sitting on the floor. Toby seems to have woken up thoroughly and is standing over the couch talking with Sam and C.J., this time about the polling data. Leo is still in the armchair and now he is almost asleep. And Donna has twisted in her sleep so she is now laying flat on her back, with her head still in my lap, instead of on her side.

The Senior Staff. Now these are my siblings. I said earlier that my sister died when I was young. At that time, I essentially became an only child. I didn’t know what brothers really were and while Joanie was an amazing big sister, I don’t know what I’d do with out C.J. I don’t know if they see it too, they all come from slightly larger families. Toby is the youngest of five, three sisters and a brother. His brother is an astronaut and his sisters used to take him to protest rallies. C.J. has a younger brother and a younger sister. And Sam has an older sister and two younger brothers, and possibly several half brothers and sisters that he has never met.

Ironically, in my little White House family, Toby is the big brother. He tries very hard to protect us all, especially Sam. I’ve noticed it especially over the past week when I heard he had told both Sam and C.J. that he’d be in his office after they found out about the President’s illness. But even before this week, I remember when I insulted the Christian Right; one of many times, that Toby took me to the meeting to help me keep my job. As it turned out, he was the one who got upset.

Toby is always around when I need him, which is how I imagine a true big brother would be. The best example is of course that Toby is the one who found me, lying on the sidewalk, bleeding. He could have gotten in one of the cars and left, but no, he stayed and saved my life. I found out later that he was also the one who told Donna I had been shot. I can’t even dream of how difficult that must have been.

He has even been big brotherly today. He knew I was going to have trouble-telling Donna about the President, so he protected me from having to do it and he protected Donna from seeing my reaction to telling her. He knew that she had to be told because he knows she is the only one who can help me through it. I don’t know how I made it through a week without her help and I think Toby could tell.

When I first met Toby, I would never have imagined I’d be thinking of him as a brother. I first saw him at that hall in New Hampshire. Toby was pretty drunk and convinced he was going to be fired. I was doing the crossword, trying to remember a five letter Yiddish word for bedbug, when President Bartlet changed my life. After Leo fired everyone but Toby, I went over to tell Leo I’d be back. Toby was sitting at the other table and he reach over and stole the newspaper. I went over to get in his face and he handed it back saying, “38 across—vontz.”

C.J. is my big sister. She is very good at teasing, yelling, and protecting. Sam told me that he used to call his sister ‘the other mother’ because she would try to act that way. I think that nickname could work for C.J. too. Mostly because of her “I’m your first call” thing and getting so upset about Sam and Laurie. C.J.’s really seem to come into her own this past year. When I was recovering last summer I made Donna show me the press conference from after the shooting. I wanted to get out of bed and applaud the statement she made about the President being shot at while surrounded by the best-armed guards in the world. Even in the midst of tragedy she was strong. Joanie was like that too.

C.J. is very good at teasing. She’s probably the only person brave enough to make fun of Toby. And “psychics at Cal-Tech”? She knew very well what she was doing. Of course, we give the teasing right back. Thanksgiving turkeys for example.

But its not all teasing and protecting with C.J. She’s really sweet sometimes. She bought me pajamas! Of course they were several sizes too big, but it’s the thought that counts.

When Toby brought C.J. out from California to work on the Bartlet campaign, I remember thinking that she didn’t know too much about politics. I also thought that she was an Amazon in designer clothes. Then I saw her handle the press, the President, and Toby in a two-minute period and I knew we’d make it.

The door suddenly swings open, almost hitting Charlie, who jumps out of the way, and Zoey walks in. Just by looking at her, you can tell she’s been crying. Charlie stands up and wraps his arms around her.

“Where’s my dad?”

“He’s still downstairs, we’re waiting to discuss some things.” Toby responds. 

“Okay.”

Zoey and Charlie head back to the wall, Charlie still holding her tightly. Leo is officially asleep in his chair. Toby is now on the couch with C.J. and it sounds like they are discussing how to light the Mural Room on Wednesday. Donna is still asleep in my lap, but she has shifted again, facing outward and curled in the fetal position. And Sam has moved to the other chair and is falling asleep there.

Sam. I’ve known Sam longer than anyone here except Leo and he has always been like a younger brother to me. He has a…what did Toby call it? Credulous simplicity, about him. I mean, no one else I know could accidentally sleep with a call girl and then try to reform her. I hope this past month hasn’t destroyed his innocence. First finding out his father betrayed the family for so long. Then realizing Donna was using his ego to get him to help Stephanie. And finally learning that the President has been lying to him, to all of us, since the moment Sam met him.

Sam has usually kind of been comic relief boy around here. He knows all the random, trivial things—like how to get to Washington from Nova Scotia or that Al Roker lost weight. I just about collapsed on the floor when I read his pilgrim action adventure series and when he was obsessing over what he had said to Karen Cahill about nuclear weapons. It’s useful to have a little brother; I can blame things on him like the fire we accidentally set in the Mural Room.

And of course, the rest of us take care of Sam, as his older siblings. We took him out and got him drunk after he learned about his father, then Donna and I took him home and made sure he got to bed safely. Toby tried to protect him from knowing about the President’s MS for as long as possible. And, because we are brothers and I protect him, I went and took him away from Gage Whitney and Lisa, because I know him and I knew where he should be. Just like Leo knew I was drowning, I knew that Sam and his ideology needed saving.

Sam and I first met through the U.S. Postal Service. His older sister is about my age and in fifth grade our schools—mine in Connecticut and hers in California—started a pen-pal program. My pen pal, of course, was Angie Seaborn. She told me all about her family, especially her younger brother. Somehow we kept writing until college. When Sam headed for Princeton Angie wrote me and gave him my number. I took him out to dinner as a favor to Angie. We stayed up until three a.m. arguing environmental law. We were best friends instantly.

Finally to the woman lying in my lap. Donna. She was actually the easiest to classify. Donna is like my wife. I first realized this last summer after I was released from the hospital. Donna took care of me and was always there. She made rules about whom I could see and for how long and everyone, including me, followed them. It was as if everyone felt she had a right to make those decisions.

I’m sure Donna doesn’t know that I see her that way. I think she believes that I am just being sarcastic when I’m really telling her how truly important she is to me. For example, when I needed her to talk with a drunken Vassily Kovonov I remarked, “You have enormous value to me, you have no value to Eastern Europe.” I think she focused more on the second half of the sentence when I had hoped she’d pay attention to the first. However, I don’t think she could have missed the concern I know was on my face when she told me about the car accident she’d been in and the jerk of a boyfriend who had stopped for a beer. It had been two years but I felt sucker punched, like it had only been two days. I couldn’t imagine her being hurt and me not being there to help. I didn’t know how to say that though so I just said, “If you were in an accident, I wouldn’t stop for a beer.” And then she floored me with her response about not stopping for red lights. Just remembering it makes me smile a little.

I tend to feel the need to protect Donna and I think she feels the same impulse toward me. There was after the shooting of course. Then there was last Christmas. It doesn’t surprise me that Donna was the one who figured out something was wrong and that she knew the only way to help me was to tell Leo. I wanted so badly to repay her for that by protecting her for as long as possible from the sky falling and the ground dropping out from under us. Or I at least wanted to be there when she found out so I could reassure and hold her. Toby took both of those away from me. When I realized he had to have been the one to tell her I wanted to beat him upside the head, but then I figured out why he felt he had to tell her. He needed to protect and help me.

I’ve said this a million times in my head and I wish I could let the words come out of my mouth. I love Donna Moss and I wish she could be my wife in my life, not just in my head. I love the way she debates policy with me while walking through the White House corridors, the way she gets mad at me for sending her flowers, how she anticipates my needs, even the way she doesn’t get me coffee. If I can’t tell her that though, I’d be perfectly happy to stay here on this love seat with Donna’s head in my lap and my fingers running through her hair.

Unfortunately, it appears that I’m not even going to get to do that. The door has swung open again, missing Charlie and Zoey sitting on the floor by inches. The President comes in slowly. Toby, C.J., and Charlie all leap to their feet. Sam reacts more slowly and elbows Leo on his way up. Meanwhile I shake Donna awake.

“Donna, Donna.” I whisper.

“Not now Josh, let me sleep.” She mumbles back.

“Donna?” Says the President.

“Josh, that wasn’t you, was it?” she responds.

“No Donna, that was the President.” I say into her ear.

“Oh my gosh!” She jumps out of my lap and on her way up trips over my feet. I manage to catch her right before she hits the coffee table face first.

“Donna, you okay?” I ask, holding her waist and helping her regain her balance. My mind is racing, wishing I could pull her closer to me.

“I’m fine Josh. Mr. President, I’m sorry.” Her whole face is bright red.

“It’s fine Donna. I’m just surprised to see you here,” the President responds looking straight at me.

“She knows, Mr. President. I told her.” Toby replies.

“Really? Well, let’s get started.”

We all sit back down in our previous positions. It takes me a minute to realize that my arm is still around Donna’s waist. She doesn’t seem to mind so I decide to leave it there. The President is discussing having Mrs. Landingham’s funeral on Wednesday at the National Cathedral. Everyone nods in agreement. The President finishes the details and looks around at each of us. I follow his gaze around my family and realize that I do not want this to end.

“Okay. What’s next?”

_The End_


End file.
